


don't care what you think

by twofoldAxiom



Series: Chimeric'verse and Crash'verse [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, Dom/sub Undertones, Double Penetration, Helmsman Kink, Helmsman Sollux, M/M, Nook Eating, Power Dynamics, The Helmsman Chimeric, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-22
Updated: 2015-02-22
Packaged: 2018-03-14 14:30:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3414152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twofoldAxiom/pseuds/twofoldAxiom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You are such a shit.” He says. His face his flushed and his eyes are dilated. You chuckle around his fingers and lick them again before releasing them, and he grips your jaw, twisting your face to the side so he can lick one of the feeders connected to the base of your skull. You shiver. He presses his soft lips to your temple. “You are such a horrible fucking shit, I try to be romantic and this is how you repay me.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	don't care what you think

**Author's Note:**

> Pure pwp, written for an anon on askthehelmsmanchimeric. Enjoy!

_I don't care what you think as long as it's about me._

~!~

The words whispered against your neck make you shudder, and you would say something if not for the fingers in your mouth. Karkat leaves nibbles along your collarbones, tonguing at the piercings there, and it's bizarrely gentle for how he usually treats you.

You won’t stand for it, of course. You grind back against him and make him groan, sparks popping along your second set of horns as your fingers trace circles of static along his bare back, just about all you can muster while jacked into the helm. Then you bite his fingers and he curses, biting back in vengeance over the left set of piercings until you feel his sharky little teeth draw blood. That makes you grin around his digits, sucking slightly at the wounds you left.

“You are such a shit.” He says. His face is flushed and his eyes are dilated. You chuckle around his fingers and lick them again before releasing him, and he grips your jaw, twisting your face to the side so he can lick one of the feeders connected to the base of your skull. You shiver. He presses his soft lips to your temple. “You are such a horrible fucking shit, I try to be romantic and this is how you repay me.”

“You wouldn’t have it any other way and you know it.” You purr, and possessively grip his hips that much harder, grinding harder against his already-unsheathed bulge. Your own bulges are making a sloppy mess of your jeans, but not as badly as his bulge is staining his uniform. You groan as he grinds back, and you can feel the appendages between you fighting to get through the cloth and tangle in each other or find a hole to bury into. “There is way too much clothing in the way.”

“You think?” He says. His other hand pinches the scar where one of your grublegs used to be, making you moan and growl, but he pulls away before you can nip him for that and starts undoing your jeans at last. You sigh as his fingers find your bulges, fever-hot and making you even wetter for it. He licks across his teeth, glances up at you and snorts derisively. “You’re making a mess down here, you slut.”

You chuckle. “You like it.” And it’s not like he isn’t obviously aroused either. For someone who keeps bitching at you and Dave for doing it in the helmsblock, he seems to be enjoying himself just fine. Granted, your psionics are tingling across the outer lips of his nook, teasingly dipping in every now and again like an immaterial tongue

He growls again when you reach up to play with the beds of his horns, but the growling turns into purring and he nuzzles against the warm rubber of your palm until you chuckle, and he gives the bulge he’s holding a squeeze so hard you gasp of “ _Fuck,_ ” and it comes out breathy and lusty as anything.

He smirks and kisses you again, then mouths at your neck while you keep playing with your horns and he hitches your thigh over his hip. It’s probably really heavy, but he’s built the best the Empire can make him, even with the layer of padding that a steady diet of JC’s cooking has given him. You squeeze some of that with your other hand and hear his breath hitch, then refocus the psionics around his nook to around his bulge, just for a moment, like you’re touching him.

He grinds on you again, and it sort of chafes with the fabric in the way. You growl and finally unzip his pants, pushing them down his hips with crackles of electricity that needle against his thighs.

“I don’t have all night, KK.” You murmur against his ear. He bites you again, sucking around the bite- you’re going to be wearing his marks for a week at least, the thought makes you groan and your bulges twist, but finally he leaves your neck and slides down onto his knees. Your hands are still on his horns while he pulls your jeans down your skinny legs and licks a stripe of genetic material off your inner thigh. You groan again. “Come on you tease, I need to helm the ship here, are you just gonna lick my legs all night?“

“Shut up and multitask.” He snaps back, glaring up at you (God that shouldn’t be as hot as it is), but he finally cranes his neck up and takes hold of your hips before taking one of your bulges in his sinfully hot mouth. His lips are soft and warm and _tight_ around the base, his tongue roughly sliding over the sensitive ridges on the underside of your bulge, and you will never, ever get tired of Karkat Vantas sucking you off. You moan at the sight, at his flushed face and the eager way he palms himself, and at the wet heat that makes your hips twitch against his mouth.

It isn’t long before he’s pulling back nearly all the way in a way that makes you whine and swear. You _really_ swear when he starts going back down and now he has both your bulges in his mouth, stretching his lips obscenely wide and making drool slide down his chin. It’s almost as tight as his nook, except you’re pretty sure his mouth is better than his nook because he can swallow around you, choking your bulges in the tightly textured heat of his throat.

“Hoooly _shit…_ ” You tilt your head back and close your eyes, focusing on the suction and his blunt claws digging into your hip. The faint ghost of a smirk curls your lip when you give his hornbeds a squeeze with fingers full of static and you hear him literally choke on your bulges. He retaliates by raking his claws across your ass and making you hiss.

When he pulls off, his lips are swollen and dripping with cloudy, yellowed spit. Your bulges lash across them one last time as he stands up and shrugs out of his pants and his boots, carefully hanging them on one of your thicker biowires like it’s nothing at all. You smack his ass with an open palm and he narrows his eyes at you.

“Disengage.” He says, commanding and stern in a way that makes your nook ache. He wipes the spit away with his arm and fixes you a hot glare that perfectly mingles hatred and lust. You want more of it of course, so instead of disengaging from the helm immediately, you pull him into another kiss and growl into his mouth, rutting against his bulge. He moans and lets you, but then he pulls your head back by the delicate feeders ( _ow_ ) and snarls. “I said _disengage,_ did you hear me you nookslurping disgrace?”

“Funny you should say that, aren’t you the one who was slurping my bits a second ago?” You grin, but he slaps you for it. You scratch up his sides but your hands don’t have claws anymore and all it manages is to raise pinkish welts on his skin. You dig them into his gillslits and make him gasp.

“Disengage _now._ ” He’s trembling slightly. You pull your fingers out of his gillslits and feel him shudder all over, before he grabs one of your horns and pulls your head back, licking up your throat. “Do it or I’ll fuck you against the wall and crush your fucking spinal siphons.”

As interesting as it might be to fuck while still helmed, you don’t want to damage the siphons, and sex is always better when you’re fully in your own body. You flip the command in the back of your head and shiver in his arms as the biowires disengage from your temples and back, slithering wetly out of your skin. You don’t know if it’s just a weird side effect of Dirk making it not hurt, because you don’t think disengaging from the helm is supposed to feel like sex.

Thinking about that reminds you that you really, really need to get fucked right now, and there’s a troll holding you up that’s ready to do just that. You sag against him, mouthing sloppily at his jaw as he pushes your jeans down all the way and kicks them away from you before lowering you onto the spongy floor. You’re not sure who’s purring now, but you dig your fingers into his shoulders so he can’t pull away and mash your mouths together, fucked up teeth getting in the way of your tongues tangling as he positions himself over your hips.

You moan embarrassingly loud as he drags his slippery nook across your bulges, back and forth, swiveling his hips in a way that you think should be illegal for how sexy it is. You try to hold him in place so you can get at least one of your bulges in him but he pins your hands over your head and kisses you until you’re breathless, kisses you like he’s determined to leave an imprint of himself on your mouth, and you’re too focused on that and the burning need between your legs to focus your psionics into holding him still.

He breaks the kiss and looks down at you, sex-drunk and squirming under the unyielding strength of his grip. You look up at him in turn, drag your eyes down his scarred, muscular body and center them on his bulge, tangled up in one of yours and his hips still moving lazy circles into you.

“Beg for it.” He says, hot and low. You growl and snap your teeth at him, sparks popping around your eyes. He grins at you and bounces, making the sparks stutter as you focus on just how close his nook is to your bulge. “Come on, grubfucker, you want this as much as I do but I’m not doing _fucking shit_ until I hear you _beg._ ”

“Come on,” You grit out, trying to push up and into him, but your bulge is too busy coiling and he raises his hips when you try. Your eyes are trained on an orange smear on his inner thigh and how much you want to lick it off if it’ll give you the chance to have him fuck you. “I already told you I don’t have all night, _come on._ ”

He pins both your wrists with one broad hand and pinches your jaw, forcing your head up while he leans in and rests his weight on his elbows. His breath is hot on your cheeks. “Nix the sass and do it _nicely,_ because if you’re in such a hurry, I can walk right out of here. Now beg.”

You bare all your teeth at him and try to snap at his nose when he lets go, but he’s still pinning your wrists when he bears his weight down on your bulge and makes you mewl. For a moment you just try to hump against him, try to get your bulge unpinned so it can slither into the right crevice, but it’s no use, he keeps bouncing and grinding in the most maddening way possible.

“Please,” You finally growl.

“Louder.” He says. “Like you mean it, bulgeslut.”

Normally you’d argue but he does another grind and you can’t take it anymore. You close your eyes and try to rut into him, panting, mouth running off without you. “Please, please, _please, just fuck me.”_

 _That_ display seems to satisfy him, because he grins triumphantly before letting go of your wrists and settling back on your thighs. For a moment you’re dismayed, thinking he’s going to leave, but the moment passes when he raises his hips again and takes hold of your bulges. He looks you in the eye, daring you to look away as slowly, slowly, he lowers his nook to you.

One of the nice things about him is that he loves the stretch of having both of your bulges in him at once, and that’s one thing you’re always ready to oblige him no matter which concupiscent quadrant you’re currently tangled up in. You watch him stretch around you and the two of you moan at once at the feeling, him at being so open and you at the wet fever heat enveloping your squirming flesh.

It takes an eternity before his ass is settled on your thighs again, and you can see a slight bump in his lower abdomen. Knowing what it is makes your bulges thrash and he gasps at the feeling of it, arching beautifully in the low light. He doesn’t stay still for long though; he looks down at you, mouth hanging open slightly as he catches his breath, and he starts to pull up before sinking down again.

Your hands find his hips, thumbs on his hipbones as you watch, mesmerized, the way he swallows you down over and over again. The feeling of it works in tandem with the sight, and you find yourself panting too, rolling your hips up to meet his descent. It isn’t long before the two of you have found a workable rhythm, bouncing and grinding, sweat trickling down his skin in the muggy air.

His bulge stripes wet, reddish arcs across your belly, and one of your hands slides off his hip to tangle in it. You hear his breath hitch as you start squeezing in time with his bouncing, squeezing and stroking and twisting carefully, just enough to keep his attention, making him moan.

“Sollux…” He warns, when your fingers creep lower, but it’s not quite enough to get you away. He growls low and dangerous, but it melts into a soft sigh when you start thumbing at the little nub of flesh between bulge and nook. He’s so wet that you could probably slip a couple of fingers into him even with how tight the fit is.

You grin and test that, and he gasps as he feels you shove a couple of metallic digits inside of him, arching again and tensing all over in a way that makes his nook clamp down on you. His bulge curls down around your wrist, and you wonder if that’s safe with the shifting steel and rubber of your arm, but you’re quickly distracted by hands going around your throat and squeezing.

Electricity pops between your horns, the sensation too familiar even after all this time. He doesn’t squeeze tight enough to make your vision blur, just tight enough to be uncomfortable, tight enough to let you know he wants to be in control. You pull your fingers out and he lets go of your throat, but one hand reaches down, grabs your wrist, and brings your hand up to your face.

He pushes your fingers, slick with him, into your mouth. “Clean that up.” He snarls, and for once you don’t argue as you slide your tongue over the digits to clean them and give him a show, split tongue curling over the stained plastic. You groan at the salty-sweet taste, closing your eyes, and if the groan he makes isn’t a judge of how much he enjoyed that, the way he just ground down on you definitely is.

“Fuck, look at you.” He murmurs, hazy eyed with need. He lets go of your wrist and his fingers are at the remains of the ports on your ribs, dipping in like you did with his gillslits and fuck, it _should_ hurt, but that’s not why you squirm. He pins you with his thighs as he starts bouncing in shorter movements, and looks down at you, licks his lips. “Look at you, hnn, you’re a fucking _wreck.”_

“So are you.” You know he’s close, you’re getting there yourself. You squeeze his hip and thrust up, your bulges making obscene squelching noises at every move. You can feel your combined preslurry dribbling down the crack of your ass. It won’t be long under this treatment, but it’s not quite enough yet, you need a little more.

You bare your throat to him. He takes the bait, leaning down to sink his teeth in the side of your neck and leaving a matching mark to the one on the other side. The pain and the heat almost undo you then and there, you clutch at his back and he grunts into your skin as he squeezes down hard, his hands bunched at either side of your head as finally he comes all over you, searing hot fluid spilling over your lap. All the while his nook wrings your bulges for all you’re worth and the tight knot in your guts comes undone as your bulges spurt inside him.

There’s so much that he definitely has a slightly rounder gut for it when you’re done. When he pulls off of you, you see a few dribbles of orange-tinged yellow make their way down his thigh, and you lick your lips.

He notices of course, because he crawls up your body in smooth, sinuous movements that make you follow every flex and pull of his arms and chest and legs, before he’s settled his nook right over your face, drops of fluid dripping onto your open mouth.

“Drink up, nookslurper.” He says, and he barely has the words out before your hands are on his ass to tilt his hips and you oblige, plunging your tongue into his cum-slick folds. You really should eat better, because the taste of you inside him is kind of gross, but underneath that is the taste of _him_ and you can’t get enough of that. He rolls his hips into your mouth with another downright pornographic moan while you suck his nook and squeeze his ass.

He doesn’t finish again in your mouth before you’ve cleaned him up, but he does help sluice off the worst of his own genetic material on your belly. There’s red slurry on the bioware, and you don’t hesitate to needle him for forgetting the bucket after all the times he’s ragged on you and Dave for the exact same thing. He punches you on the shoulder.

“Get back in the helm so we can dock.” He mutters, getting re-dressed. You’re treated to the sight of his ass wiggling enticingly back into his uniform pants, dry now but still with a slight darkening on the front, and you give it a smack. He glares at you.

You chuckle and, still nude, salute to him as the wires snick back into place and make you purr. “Aye aye, captain.” You say, and you don’t hear him bitch you out for it because your thoughts are sent immediately adrift in the ship.


End file.
